There's something about that coat, that sheepskin coat that just makes him seem so vulnerable, like you kinda imagine him being cold and putting it on, being grateful for its warmth.
Angela took hold of the lapel of the jacket and ran her finger across the soft sheepskin. She felt its warmth, but also his.
"You don't have to say it," he said quietly.
Angela focussed on the coat. It reminded her of the time when Jordan was just a fantasy, when she spent hours obsessing about every aspect of him, all perfection. Before he became like an actual part of her life, and he wasn't so perfect after all. She withdrew her hand.
"I can't believe we're here again," she shook her head.
"Angela," in barely a whisper.
"Such a fool. I mean I knew, I knew it couldn't work," she tucked her hair behind her ears.
"So this is it?"
She looked up at him, "it's pointless Jordan. We tried and-," shaking her head, "we just got hurt again,"
Jordan gritted his teeth "I don't understand Angela, it just seems so stupid,"
"What's not to understand? You're not the person I thought you were,"
"I'm not the person you thought you could make me,"
Angela, slightly stunned by the profound declaration, took a step backward in surprise, "I never tried to make you anything,"
"Yes you did. You wanted me to change; you, you-," he stuttered, "wanted to change me into some kind of perfect person, like that Brian kid. I'm not perfect Angela," he held his hand to his heart.
"You're not, I never expected you to be. I just wanted someone who would be honest with me. You wouldn't even tell me your own father's name,"
Jordan shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"You confide more in Rayanne than you do in me." The anger made it difficult for Angela to control her breathing; she took shallow frantic breaths, fighting back tears and words.
Jordan, unable to simply stand there and watch her in distress, wrapped his arm tentatively around her waist and pulled her close to him. He felt her take hold of his coat and hold herself tighter to his body. He felt a tear fall from her cheek on to his neck; it seemed to burn his skin. Eventually Angela pulled away, she straightened his collar.
"I guess we just go back to being friends,"
Jordan let go of her and took a step back, he shook his head, "we don't make good friends,"
Angela wiped another tear away; they were falling regardless of how much she bid them not to, "we can try," she smiled through the tears in an attempt to restore some optimism though in truth she felt little herself.
Jordan too seemed to be struggling, he turned to look up the street and Angela could clearly see his eyes were glossy. "I'm sorry I'm not the person you see in your head. I'm not perfect, I don't have the perfect family or say the right things,"
"You don't say anything at all," Angela corrected.
Jordan shifted his weight from one foot to the other and dug his fingernails into his palms in frustration, "okay, well I guess that's it then,"
Angela nodded slowly. She felt Jordan take hold of her hand; he raised it to his chest and pressed it against his heart, leant in, and kissed her.
--
Angela wasn't exactly sure what had compelled her to return to Brian's rather than home, but as Brian held out the folded piece of paper toward her she couldn't help but think perhaps it had been a decision of fate.
"Just read it okay,"
The paper was crumpled. Why is boy's paper always crumpled, like they don't know how to look after paper properly? It's really not that hard to keep a piece of paper like not crumpled.
Angela took a deep breath as she unfolded the paper to reveal familiar handwriting and a familiar spelling mistake.
Dear Angella.
She half re-folded the paper; unsure as to whether she actually wanted to read the rest.
"I guess it's what he meant to say before I-," Brian shook his head and began to turn toward the door, "I just figured you might want to read it,"
"Why did you keep this?"
"I didn't," he lingered, not wanting to look up at her, "not on purpose, he put it in the text book,"
Angela looked back down at the letter.
"I'm gunna go do some research for bio,"
She paused as Brian collected a couple of books from the desk and left, she heard his footsteps making their descent down the stairs.
You know I'm not good at this but when I try and speek to you like in school and stuff I just clam up and can't say the right thing. I just make things worse and I don't want to do that. I have dreams sometimes where I know exactly what to say to you and you say you forgive me. I know thats not what you feel like doing. I know you are angry with me and you are rite to be, I hate what I did to you. I hate how stupid I am sometimes. I wish I could tell you everything that I feel about you, like maybe in a poem or something. But I can't. I don't have the rite words and if I can't say it rite then I don't want to say it because you deserve the best words, the most beutiful words because you are beutiful. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you these things properly but I'm not good at it, I've never lerned it and I know you hate that but I want you to know that even though I don't tell you about them, the feelings are there and I'll never be more sorry than I am now.
Jordan
Angela wiped a tear from her face and quickly glanced out of the window just in case Jordan was still there, but she couldn't see any sign of him. An extraordinary mix of emotions overcame her; the ecstasy of Jordan's words was replaced shortly after by a guilt that she could hardly bear. She had blamed Jordan for being the way he was, everything he had said to her, everything Brian had accused her of, was all true.
Downstairs she found Brian sitting quietly in the dining room. He didn't seem to notice her at first; not because he was absorbed by the biology textbook but because he was staring off into space, idly folding the corners of the pages over.
"Brian?"
He started and quickly shut the book. Angela moved to the table and took a seat next to him, holding the letter in front of her.
"I guess you read it then,"
She nodded.
Brian sighed; he pulled the textbook toward him as if it gave him some comfort, "those things I said earlier, I didn't mean them,"
"No, you were right. I've done wrong by everyone. Especially you,"
"It doesn't matter,"
"Yes it does. I led you to believe there was something between us when there wasn't,"
"No you didn't. I never really believed you could choose me over him. I mean why would you?"
"Brian, there are so many reasons why,"
He looked up and realised she was speaking honestly. There was a moment of silence; not necessarily an awkward silence, more an understanding silence.
"So I'd better-," she indicated to the letter.
"Yeah," Brian replied quickly.
He watched her leave, still clinging to the biology textbook like some kind of comfort blanket but happy, in a way, in the knowledge that he had been honest.
--
Jordan sat in the darkness of the Chase's porch. He glanced down at his watch, ten-thirty, and thought about going home. Just as he was about to stand he heard raised voices emanating from indoors. The front door flew open a moment later and Graham rushed past him and climbed into the car waiting on the drive. Jordan was thankful for the gloom of the porch that rendered him invisible to any passing Chase. His memory threw up the times that he had waited in the darkness of the porch of his own home when his parents were fighting and more recently when he had wanted to avoid his father. The front door flew open a second time and Patty emerged, looking fraught and upset. She ran down the steps of the porch just as Graham's car disappeared down the street. Resigned to the fact that her husband would be spending the night on the sofa at his brother's – she hoped – Patty slowly turned back toward the house. She gasped as something moved in the shadows of the porch.
"Jordan Catalano?"
Jordan stepped into the light.
"Are you trying to put me in the hospital?" she held her hand against her chest.
"Sorry,"
Patty stepped back up on to the porch, adjusting a stray hair and dabbing beneath her eyes with a tissue.
"Angela's out,"
"Would it be okay if I waited here?"
"Do what you want," she disappeared inside and shut the door behind her.
Jordan sat back down on the slatted floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. He felt like a child again, helpless and slightly embarrassed by the realisation that adults have like emotions too.
Just as his mind was drifting back to the numerous times he had locked himself away in his room to avoid yet another confrontation with his father the front door opened again and Patty reappeared.
"You might as well wait inside,"
Reluctant as he was to face an emotional Patty, Jordan found himself standing and following her inside.
He sat at the table, she poured him a glass of milk and stood at the sink looking out of the window.
"I suppose you're wondering what you've walked into,"
Jordan focussed on the glass of milk, he was reminded of the night he had sat at the very same table with Graham and suspected him of keeping some sort of secret.
"Ever since we were teenagers Camille has always prided herself on knowing better than me, she's going to love this." Patty seemed to realise suddenly that she had spoken aloud. "He's just gone to stay with his brother," she collected some dishes from the worktop and placed them in the sink, "I told him he should go,"
Jordan took a sip of milk and recalled the Christmas morning spent sitting next to unopened presents whilst his father called round everyone they knew trying to locate his mother, convinced that she was just overreacting and would be back with just some subtle persuasion.
At length, Patty turned, "will you tell Angela when she gets back, I'm going to bed."
Jordan felt a cold chill run up his spine; he ran his finger up the side of the glass, collecting the condensation that had gathered there from the coldness of the milk. He remembered the sound of his father slamming his bedroom door and then the sound of the clock on the mantelpiece as it ticked away the seconds of a Christmas spent alone.
He finished the glass of milk and washed up the glass. He found himself wandering into the living room, examining the framed photographs on the surfaces there, of the Chase family on various vacations and at events. As he ascended the stairs he thought of sitting there on the staircase listening to his father arguing on the phone to his mother-in-law, begging to be told where his wife had gone.
Jordan pushed open the door of the room at one end of the corridor and knew at once it was Angela's. He knew her scent well enough by now, and if not then the plaid shirt hanging on the mirror was sufficient evidence to be sure. The door to the closet was open and Jordan couldn't shake the urge to curl up inside it like he would sometimes, until just a few years ago, after he had argued with his father. It was the only place he ever felt truly safe. A sound behind him caused him to spin around. Angela appeared in the doorway.
"Jordan!?"
He had just enough time to thank God he hadn't succumbed to the urge to curl up in the closet, how the hell would he have explained that?
"What are you doing in here?"
Jordan realised there was no easy explanation, "your mom let me in,"
Angela looked doubtful, "what are you doing in my room? Jordan you have to go,"
The front door could be heard opening. Angela turned and ran to the staircase. Jordan sat on the edge of the bed; he could hear the conversation outside.
"Dad?"
"Angela, I thought you were at Brian's?"
"I came home. Where are you going?"
"I forgot my wallet, I'm staying at Uncle Neil's,"
"Why?"
There came no reply.
"Dad? Why? Why are you going? Where's mom?"
The front door closed.
He looked down at the floor as Angela walked slowly back into the room.
"Did you know about this?"
Jordan shook his head, "your mom just said to tell you he'd gone to stay at his brother's,"
She stood motionless for a few moments as the events of the evening sank in. He noted the tell tale trembling of her chin and quickly pulled her toward him, sitting her down on the bed next to him. He noted the piece of crumpled paper in her hand; she released it as she sat down. Jordan picked it up and unfolded it, realising immediately what it was.
"Where did you get this?"
Angela looked up at him, she had momentarily forgotten about the prior events, "it was in the Phonics Manual, Brian found it,"
"Did you read it?"
She nodded.
Jordan felt the blush rise in his cheeks at the idea of Angela reading something so honest, but this was followed by an equal sense of relief that his feelings had been made known to her. "I had this dream, like after the car crash. I dreamt that you like-, that you died,"
Angela frowned, unsure as to where this was headed.
"It felt like-, kinda like when my mom left. As though the oxygen was gone or something, like in the air, I couldn't breathe. Or I didn't want to," he picked at a rough nail before continuing, "we never found out where she went, I don't even know if she's got other kids now or anything. My dad and me just kinda had to carry on. We were never really tight, I mean we didn't exactly get along, you know. We'd fight sometimes, not just words," he took a deep breath, "sometimes I wish he'd just stop blaming me and be my dad," he tucked his hair behind his ears, "you're lucky you know, your parents would never let their problems like hurt you,"
Angela looked up at him, her heart ached at the thought of him trying his best to comfort her. She reached up to caress his cheek. He mirrored her action, wiping a stray tear from her cheek and stroking a single finger down her neck.
"I loved the letter," she whispered, "I always knew you could write like that if you wanted to, I mean I remember the song you wrote,"
"What song?"
"The Red song,"
"Oh, yeah, about the car,"
"The car? I thought that was about me?"
Jordan smiled.
Angela started giggling, slightly embarrassed, "it wasn't?"
Jordan shook his head, still smiling.
"Oh my God, I thought it-," she laughed.
"I wouldn't sing about you like that,"
"Oh, no, I mean obviously," Angela scoffed as if to go along with the idea that it would be like totally stupid.
"I mean I wrote songs about you,"
"You did?"
"Yeah, like a whole book full," he ran a hand up her back and into her hair, "I wouldn't sing them in public like that. I don't know, it would ruin it or something,"
Angela smiled and placed her hand over his as it rested on his knee.
"Do you want me to stay?" Jordan looked up at her, "I mean, not like that, just like you know,"
She smiled, finding it strange how Jordan's vagueness now seemed so endearing whereas before it had made her so angry.
"It's just when my mom left I would have liked it, you know, like if someone was there,"
Angela felt herself brought back down to earth, back to the realisation that all was not well with the Chase family unit, "do you think he'll come back?"
"I don't know," he replied honestly.
Angela sighed, tucking up her knees and lying down on the bed behind Jordan.
"Please stay," she whispered.
Is it like a law of nature or something that the true depth of a person isn't revealed to you until you've become absolutely convinced that they're like totally shallow? It must be some kind of a test, a really stupid test.
Okay, I think I'm going to leave it there. Thank you very much for reading and for leaving reviews. I apologise if my writing is a bit frustrating sometimes, I realise not an awful lot actually happens in my stories, they tend to be more like extended character studies really but thank you for sticking with it!! xx